


A Wish For Wings

by Caro (thestarsexist)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: undermistletoe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-09
Updated: 2006-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsexist/pseuds/Caro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secrets have a way of coming out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wish For Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge was to pick a past Challenge to respond to. I picked Inappropriate Elf Challenge  
> *facepalm* This, this, is what happens when I talk to notpoetry. Thank you to scribblinlenore and celli for the beta, though they might prefer not to be associated with this.  
> A/N 2: The title is taken from the Bloom County Christmas movie.

Secrets have a way of coming out. John knows this. He didn't expect to get away with it forever, but he's gotten used to his life, become complacent. He's forgotten that he once knew another. The thing that he never actually expected, however, is that Rodney would be the one to discover his secret, not oblivious Rodney, not self-absorbed Rodney, not Rodney who never notices anything beyond himself. And it's wrong and unfair, but he can't bring himself to be fair right now, not when Rodney is going to expose him, not when he can suddenly feel the fetters of his old life pulling him down.

"I know your secret," Rodney is saying, is taunting him. And God, he's enjoying this. John didn't expect that, didn't expect Rodney to be so deliberately cruel.

"Shut up, McKay," he growls, clenching his hands behind his back, concentrating very hard on not hitting him. If Rodney notices how angry he is, he doesn't let on.

Rodney leans into him, their faces only inches away.

"The thing is," Rodney murmurs, the words tickling John's ear, "I don't get why you didn't just tell me."

"Yeah." he snorts. "I'm sure that would have gone over well."

Rodney shakes his head. "Did you really think I would think any less of you?" He places a hand on John's shoulder. "I mean, I couldn't very well look down on you, when you know, I'm—well—me too."

And John is reeling from that, is spinning between "what do you mean, you too?" and "oh God, I'm not alone" when Rodney closes the space between them, and brings his mouth to John's.

Huh, he thinks. He never does see these things coming.

***

Christmas is his least favorite time of year. It isn't just the constant reminders, the holly and the jolly, and the endless repeats of _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_ or _Miracle on 34th Street_ —though there was one year that he'd come really close to throwing something at the television display at Best Buy. 24 fucking screens, all in high-definition. It was hell.

The worst part is knowing what a fraud it is. The stupid stories, the carols, all those myths and no one knows how much they get wrong.

For one, it wasn't like they ever got a choice to serve. It was what you were born into. He can't remember when he first came to the workshop. It was always a part of his life, the tiny cogs and screws in his hands before he was old enough to write. He had an aptitude for fixing things, for interacting with technology, and they used that to the best of their ability. His parents had been disappointed. They'd hoped he could at least have been one of the transcribers of the list. The list-keepers, they got somewhere in life.

But if you worked in the workshop, that's where you stayed. Or at least that's where he would have stayed, if he hadn't broken the rules, turned his back on everything he knew.

He would probably still be there if it wasn't for the damn reindeer. A genetically superior breed, decades of work by their top scientists, and it was denied to him; people of his service weren't allowed to ride, hell, weren't even allowed to touch them. But one afternoon, trading shifts with one of the caretakers, and suddenly John had access. He doesn't remember slipping on its back, doesn't remember leaving the ground.

But God, it was when he knew, was able to first feel that empty place inside him that he'd denied all those years. Felt it in the rush of air through his hair, the way his stomach dropped as the reindeer completed a spectacular dive, felt it in his bones and in his heart. Flying felt like freedom, and John just wrapped his hands around it and held on.

Freedom doesn't come without a price, and he's paid. That's what he reminds himself as he lets Rodney fall to his knees, lets him take John in his mouth, open him up slowly with fingers and cock, lets him whisper thank yous against John's skin when he comes. If Rodney misunderstood, made a mistake, it's not John's fault, and John has nothing to feel guilty about.

He never lets Rodney fuck him face to face though. Somehow he thinks it'd be harder to lie to himself if could see Rodney's face.

***

They go for so long like this that it's a surprise when it unravels. A mission, a meet-and-greet really, except that it turns out there are people on this planet who know their history. Who know about things that everyone else thinks are only legends.

"Toymaker," the guard calls him, and John hears _slave_. Shame suffuses his skin, and he wants to deny it, wants to tell them he's more now, but they have guns to Rodney's head, and it's a risk he can't take.

"What do you want?" he asks instead. He can feel Rodney's incredulous stare burn into his back.

They take him to a warehouse. It's worse than he expects, and the only thing he's grateful for is that his team is not there to witness this.

"All of it?" he asks, and they confirm. He sits at a table and starts working. By the time he finishes, the sun has set, and there is a mountain of completed toys. They return him to the cell. Rodney is pacing, and John suspects he's been keeping that up all day.

"You all right?" John asks, and it's enough to send Rodney over the edge.

"No, I'm not all right! I'm starving, and I spent the entire day thinking you were dead," he shouts. "What the hell is going on?"

Before he can answer, there's a sound of an explosion in the distance, and Lorne appears down the hall.

***

The debriefing is a waste of time. Ronon and Teyla were at a separate facility, so they missed most of it. Rodney won't look at him, and John's not talking. Elizabeth sighs and dismisses them. The gate address for the planet is locked out of the database.

When Rodney barges into his room an hour later, John is lying on the bed, pretending to read _War and Peace_. He forces himself to relax, to lie there, when all he wants to do is run.

"Listen, you might not think that I have the right to ask," Rodney says without preamble. "But I—I just lied to Elizabeth, not to mention that I was held prisoner for several hours, and I didn't even do anything, so, so I deserve—damn it, Sheppard, look at me."

John lifts his head to meet Rodney's gaze.

Rodney's face softens. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

John wants to. He wants to open his mouth and tell Rodney about what it was like, about never being allowed to be anything more than what your station dictated, about that first time flying, and knowing that it was worth anything to be able to do that again, even leaving everything you knew behind. He wants to say all this.

But when he opens his mouth all that comes out is, "I'm not gay."

Rodney stares at him, a myriad of emotions playing across his face. He's always been honest with John, and John's lied about everything.

He's not surprised when Rodney storms out of the room.

***

No one else finds out. Rodney never rats him out, and there aren't any more surprises off world. Not about this anyway. Other things happen: they get captured; they escape; they overthrow governments; they end wars; they explore; and they do their job. John should be satisfied, but all he feels is the emptiness at his side. Rodney goes on missions, he walks beside John, but there's an entire galaxy of space between them. John doesn't understand how it's possible to miss something he never knew he wanted.

The night of the holiday party, John opts to work patrol. He's on a balcony on the eastern tower. It's far enough away that he can barely hear the music, but close enough that if a situation arises, he'd still be able to get to the control room easily enough.

"You know, for the longest time, I thought you were just doing the stoic military commander thing."

John spins around, disbelieving.

"I mean, the whole missing the holiday party every year, offering to take patrol at the farthest reaches of the city, I thought you were just being noble. Letting your men enjoy themselves."

He can feel his ears burning. "Rodney, I, it's..."

"Tell me, does the sound of Christmas carols make you want to commit hari-kari? Well, actually, I feel like that, and I'm not..."

He comes closer, standing right in front of John. "It's funny. There's a whole section in the database. It never really made sense. How old are you anyway?"

"Too old."

"I think one of the anthropologists was convinced it was the Ancient version of fairy tales." He frowns. "Not that any of it had a particular fairy tale-like quality."

"It wasn't so much of one," John admits. His voice sounds rough to his own ears. He wants so much to step closer, to push himself into Rodney's arms, but fear keeps him frozen.

Rodney's the one to step forward. He brings his hand up, cupping John's jaw.

"You could have told me," he says. His face is sympathetic.

"I couldn't—I was afraid that if you knew what I was, who I was..."

"You idiot," Rodney says, looking him in the eye. "I already know who you are."

The little flare of hope in John's chest is almost painful. "I—"

"Idiot." Rodney repeats, before kissing him. John wraps his hands around him and just holds on.  



End file.
